Dear Juan de la Cruz

I gave my class your dark night poem to read, not telling them who wrote it. They were quick to name adultery as the midnight deed the female speaker runs to, in a thick burqa of darkness. And the poor thing gets her just deserts, being wounded in the neck by a vampire lover. My best student bets her husband locks her out. I tried to check these thoughts by pointing to her night of bliss under the cypress trees, but they were cold to ecstasy”young puritans who kiss in condoms nowadays. And when I told them who you were, it didnt change their minds. They dont know darkness comes in different kinds.